


By Proxy

by jamestiqueeriuskirk



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Asgardian sports drinks, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Epiphanies, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Thor (2011), Sibling Incest, Top Thor (Marvel), Topping from the Bottom, kind of, not much just the requisite oh no i can't fuck my brother oh wait yes i can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 15:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamestiqueeriuskirk/pseuds/jamestiqueeriuskirk
Summary: When he looked over at his brother, sitting a ways away, in the corner, head together with an apothecary from some Vanir colony, Thor roved his eyes over the man, noticed the way his hand rested on Loki’s, and thought "he looks just like me."-(Thor notices something incriminating about Loki's taste in men. Then, he notices something similarly incriminating about his own. Then, he has a tiny crisis. Just a tiny one, though.)





	By Proxy

**Author's Note:**

> Really self indulgent, but I feel like with Infinity War looming so fucking close I might not be the only one who needed pre-canon, happy ending fics.
> 
> It's gonna look for a minute like there will be a tiny bit of Fandral/Loki but it's all in Thor's head and it's not what it seems, dw

Tonight, Thor’s drinking was granting him a remarkable clarity: he had the foresight to pull Fandral away from the flirtatious, elf maid at the bar when her Vanir lover began to glower at him; he had the presence to catch a tankard of ale before it tipped from its precarious place on the edge of the table; and when he looked over at his brother, sitting a ways away, in the corner, head together with an apothecary from some Vanir colony, Thor roved his eyes over the man, noticed the way his hand rested on Loki’s, and thought _he looks just like me_.

It was true: the man would have been a bit taller than Loki, if they stood, and his shoulders were impressive for someone whose profession kept him mostly stooped over a table, crushing and mixing herbs. His hair was finer than Thor’s but just as blond. He was a bit older than the both of them, and the beard he sported looked like the one Thor hoped he would have seen himself wearing if he’d scried into his own future.

It meant nothing, surely, but Thor was unusually introspective at the moment, and he wondered. The inn was only their first stop of the night, and he was just past sober, but not drunk enough to be rowdy and beyond thought.

When Volstagg suggested they move on so as to take in the larger tavern down the alley, which was likely busier, and kept its kitchen open far later, Thor looked back to Loki’s corner and found he and his companion missing.

He asked one of the serving girls where his brother had gone, and she told him the prince had retired to one of their upstairs rooms some time past. She offered to relay a message to him, should he need it, but he declined.

Thor had to assume the man had gone with Loki and he should not expect his brother to rejoin their band before the end of the night. He was disappointed, because Loki, not really one for making merry, rarely agreed to accompany them in their excursions, but it wasn’t surprising, because when he did he often cut the evening short for himself and bowed out, though usually only to return home alone.

But Loki could find his way back to the palace in the early morn just as well as he could in the middle of the night, and Thor would run into his brother at breakfast tomorrow, most likely.

And, well, also most likely it meant nothing that the man he had gone to bed with looked just like Thor. It _couldn’t_ mean anything, surely.

Within the hour they were on their third stop and Thor had become pleasantly buzzed, and then roaring drunk, and he had found a pretty, dark-haired maid who spun outrageous, clever tales to sit on his lap and enthrall him, and the matter of Loki’s man’s uncanny resemblance to him had been totally pushed from his mind.

-

It did not become forgotten, though: just buried.

The unease returned when he realized it was a habit of Loki’s.

His brother, though hardly chaste, was more socially reserved than he, so it had been a good few months since their evening in the inn, but Loki found someone to entertain him at a boring state dinner, and he, too, was a golden lion of a man, with broad shoulders and curls the color of wild honey.

He was a young lord of some moderate holdings on Asgard’s outer borders, and his dull, rural life shouldn’t have given him anything so interesting to say that Loki was clinging to his arm so, smiling indulgently.

Thor could not hear what they were saying – they were a few seats down from him, and across the table, and the hall was loud with talk – but he could read Loki’s body language just fine, and his interest in this man who could have been Thor’s twin did not lie in whatever they were talking about.

Thor drank his wine and watched them, trying to chase the meaning behind the resemblance, though it was an uneasy hunt. He didn’t have to concede to the obvious conclusion, because he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

(And what sort of a man felt ambiguous to suspect that his own brother lusted after him?)

He imagined them stealing away to Loki’s chambers, imagined his brother’s usually pale face flushed from excitement and too much wine as he pressed the noble down onto his bed and climbed on top of him, and in the fantasy the noble looked much more like Thor every minute, until Thor had gripped his crystal goblet so hard it shattered in his hand.

One of the court astronomers, a highborn woman of about his age sitting five places down, had some skill in the healing arts, and she offered him her services mending the little cuts. He accepted it, and while she worked she fussed and then outright scolded. Her stern but good-natured concern brought a smile to his face, and he liked the way her green eyes narrowed in concentration while she wove her seidr around his hand, so after he was good as new he carried on a conversation with her, and pointedly never checked to see if Loki and the rural lord left the hall together.

-

It wasn’t his tutor’s fault the lesson was so boring, but it was, and Thor’s mind was wandering.

Its destination became Loki, just on account of the fact that when Thor glanced out the window onto the sunny grounds below, his brother was the first thing he saw there.

He was alone, no golden lover to help him pass the time. It was a blazing hot day. Loki was in the shade, of course, reclining against the sturdy trunk of a leafy tree with low-hanging branches. Thor and he had climbed it often, as lads, and it was still a favorite spot to sit beneath, alone and, when their schedules aligned, together.

His brother’s nose was buried in a book. It wasn’t how Thor would have chosen to spend such a glorious, sunny afternoon, but, then, he and his brother were beautifully different, weren’t they?

Loki was using his free time for study more and more often, these days. It should have been him, sitting in this lesson, he was the one who wanted to know these things, who would have paid rapt attention, who would have made better use of the intricacies of the history of Asgard’s trade deals in future diplomacy, but Thor was crown prince, and would be king, one day. Though Loki’s performance in their lessons had always exceeded Thor’s, there had come a time, a few years ago, when their father split them up, loosed Loki to his own devices while burdening Thor with several boring, advanced history lessons and a contingent of annoying diplomacy coaches.

By not making Loki sit for these lessons, their father had ensured he would not need to do so, because Loki had taken it as a challenge, and learned all of Thor’s coursework on his own time.

Thor was unhappy with the way things had turned out and would rather their places be reversed or at least had Loki by his side in the lessons, but their father had his ideas about what each prince’s duties were.

It was still a source of resentment for Loki.

-

The captain of the Vanir border guard had giant’s blood in him, though it was far back in his line, and he could boast a height greater than Thor’s for it. He kept his sunny hair in a plait, as a matter of practicality, and his training regime, whatever it was, was generous to the width of his shoulders and the girth of his biceps.

Thor would have liked to test his mettle against him in the sparring ring, but Loki was quite distracting him.

He had ridden out to meet them at the Bifrost site, and by the time their party reached his encampment – where they planned to stay the night, before their hunt tomorrow – he had proven himself quick-witted and charming in equal measure as he must be valiant and strong, and Thor recognized the way Loki was looking at him.

It made him vaguely itchy, but he was not going to be rude to their host, so he restrained himself to glaring underhanded daggers at the both of them until they dismounted and the good captain offered to show Loki some magical artifacts he’d confiscated from a group of elvish ne’er-do-wells he’d met up in the mountains. The artifacts were _in his tent_ , of course.

-

Unable to sleep that night, Thor went for a walk around camp and ran into the captain of the night watch away from his post.

He didn’t look as if he were ashamed to be caught neglecting his duties – he levelled a cocksure smirk at Thor when he caught him looking, and it made Thor’s stomach twist pleasantly, in anticipation of the sport it seemed to promise – and, in fact, looked like he might have no shame at all.

He offered Thor a skin of wine, and Thor sat on the damp grass beside him so they could pass it back and forth.

Nights awake and days asleep had made him pale, indeed, and without sunlight to bleach it as it grew out his hair was dark from root to tip equally. He looked lovely in the lanternlight, and Thor thought of how the night was young and he was lonely.

-

Back in his tent, Thor took him on his hands and knees, bracketing his slim, white hips with his hands.

He tangled his fingers in the man’s dark hair and had the thought that _from behind, he looks just like—_

Thor stuttered and came far too early.

-

The next morning, he broke his fast with Fandral and Hogun and was reminded how military encampments were small worlds with rapid fast channels of communication.

“I hear your bedmate from last night pleased you maybe a little bit too well,” Fandral teased, his mouth full of a sweet roll.

Hogun kept characteristically silent, but Thor could read his face, and it was clear he had heard much the same thing.

Loki had not risen yet, or, at least, had not surfaced, and Thor was glad of that. He did not know how he could ever face his brother’s teasing again, after last night.

 _A little bit too well and also not quite well enough,_ Thor thought, and he blushed, though not from the friendly ribbing.

-

Loki joined them as they were saddling up. Thor would have sent someone to find him if he’d kept them waiting a moment longer.

He looked sated, but not well-rested.

The whole morning, Thor watched him out of the corner of his eye, paying sharp attention to the way Loki sat in his saddle – not strangely, but Thor’s imagination still ran amok – and the smug look that every so often crossed his face, seemingly unbidden, and that he couldn’t banish for good, though he made an effort every time he caught Thor looking.

Thor was harboring embarrassment of his own, though he was sure his was greater than his brother’s, and it was entangled with guilt and incredulity.

How had Thor never noticed before what it meant that he found Loki so pretty? How had he never before realized why it made his heart leap equally for his brother to praise him and for his brother to tease him? How had he reached to cradle Loki’s neck in his hand so many times through the centuries without realizing that each time he did he longed to close the distance between them and kiss him after?

And, now that the fact that he wanted Loki was clear, he wasn’t sure he could keep ignoring the fact that Loki wanted him.

-

The seasons on Vanaheimr were aligned with those on Asgard, and the day became too hot before noon to continue riding, even under the high, leafy canopy of the thick forest, and the creek they found was too enticing not to stop, the hunt be damned.

They were expected back by evening, and they were expected back with the pelt of a great, white stag in tow, but they spent the afternoon swimming, instead.

The water was cool but not cold and flowed gently. The air was thick and smelled of heady pollens and fruits, and they all felt sluggish, disinclined to do any swimming more strenuous than splashing around in the shallows.

Thor felt disinclined to do much more than watch Loki watch Fandral.

Fandral had grown his hair out long for the past winter and then kept it long into the summer to suit the latest court fashion.

He’d shaved the winter beard, though, as Thor had done with his. It wasn’t a question of style, it was simply too hot to have one.

Thor never kept up with such trends – his face was never going to go out of vogue, he could coast – and he had kept his hair much the same length, with small changes, for the last thirty years, at least. It was a matter of coincidence that how he wore it was the fashion right now. Those with their hair down past their shoulders before the start of the summer were cutting it, and potions that could grow the hair rapidly were in high demand for those who’d had their hair much shorter but wanted to get onboard before the season closed and tastes changed.

Loki, who catalogued nearly everything that happened at court, did keep up with such trends, though usually just to flout and subvert them.

But he seemed to be enjoying this particular craze. He wasn’t buying into the look, just spectating, but there was a lot of audience participation going on.

He’d been doing well for himself these past few weeks, being unusually active, and Thor kept stumbling into long-haired, sun-kissed jack-a-dandies stealing out of his brother’s chambers in the early morning hours.

Was Fandral pleasing to him too?

Loki was watching him deviously.

Fandral had pushed Loki into the water still dressed when he first declined to swim with them, and said he now had no choice but to shed his clothes and no excuse not to get in the water.

But Loki could have magicked himself dry, if he truly wanted to; his resistance to getting in the water for some fun had been token. It was hot, and he was sensitive to heat, more so than anyone else Thor knew. He wouldn’t have remained a stick in the mud for long when the mud was baking into clay.

So, he couldn’t be too angry with Fandral, though he could be counted on to avenge himself somehow. Just a playful kind of punishment, then?

Something to make Fandral squirm a little, without hurting him? Something they’d both walk away from satisfied?

Thor imagined Loki enticing Fandral off into the bushes, just the two of them away from he and Hogun, and then pushing him back against a tree trunk, dropping to his knees and attacking him with that tongue – it had to be as talented in that sort of thing as it was in speech, Loki would never curate one skill and neglect the other – until he was begging to come, promising he was sorry for pushing Loki into the water—

Thor was probably thinking overmuch about this, but when Fandral hoisted himself out of the water and announced he was going to gather some fruits, Thor watched in horror as his brother’s response seemed to confirm his suspicions.

“I’m desperately hungry,” Fandral told them. “Would anyone else like an apple or two?”

Loki climbed out onto the bank after him, squeezing the water out from his hair. “No,” he said. “But let me be an extra set of hands for you.”

Fandral was a fool to accept the help; he must have been walking right into his brother’s trap, but, then, Thor was imagining it to be a very pleasant trap, indeed, and felt skittish envy for Loki’s victim, not sympathy.

He let them traipse off together until he lost sight of their little party of two behind the tree line, and then he began to imagine them returning, sweatier than they were when they started out.

He mumbled something about his appetite being awoken now that Fandral put the idea in his mind and got out of the water. Hogun, blessedly unsuspicious and loath to get out of the water, waved him off.

The underbrush was thick and overgrown, so as Thor navigated it quickly but carefully, minding the brambles and following the footpath Fandral and Loki had already crushed, he heard his brother and his friend before he saw them.

“Fandral, come here. I have something for you.”

“What is it, a favor?” Fandral asked roguishly, for he knew no other way to ask.

“It’s very sweet,” Loki said vaguely, now in Thor’s sight. He was leaning against a thick tree trunk, hand extended to Fandral in invitation.

“That sounds too good to pass up, my prince,” said Fandral with a big grin, taking the hand.

Thor sprinted from the bushes and yanked Fandral away from Loki by the waist.

“Thor, you lunatic!” Fandral cried, not angry but certainly shocked, kicking his legs in the air for the moment that they were held completely aloft from the ground.

Thor put him down and was splattered with something from above. He wiped a hand across his cheek and it came away wet and sticky with the flesh of some stringy fruit.

Fandral changed his tune. “My hero,” he laughed.

Thor then realized what he must have walked into. His brother must have had several overripe fruits levitating above the spot he was trying to coax Fandral into, floating in wait to be released from their magical hold and dropped on his head. Nothing Fandral would have resented. A deserved petty revenge, and one easily remedied with another swim.

He blinked the creeping juice out of his eyes and turned to his brother.

Loki didn’t look upset that Thor had stepped in the way of his plan. Actually, he looked like Thor had handed him a twofold victory – the sight of his perfect brother drenched in rotting, fruit juices and, well, something else Loki wanted. Some win in some war Thor hadn’t realized Loki had realized he was waging.

Did Loki know his heart? Had he known all along? Had he been suspicious before, and had Thor now handed him confirmation? How long would his brother now want to string him along, when he could have ended Thor’s suffering before it began?

His brother’s look of triumph fell away when Thor rubbed some of the burst fruit onto his cheek and into his hair, and he scowled outright when Fandral had a laugh over his makeover, but Thor was feeling irate, and not just on account of the trap he’d accidentally sprung on himself.

-

It was late in the day when they rode in from the Bifrost, but after they stabled their horses Thor jogged right to the training yard, where there were still several warriors sparring in the setting sun.

He needed to work off some of his nervous energy, and he knew no better way than this to do so.

(Save perhaps one, but last night it had already proven itself not to be an escape so much as a confrontation.)

The first man he went up against was stocky, with a shaved head and a ruddy beard. He fought well, and by the end of their match, Thor was already feeling a little better.

That changed when his next opponent stepped into the ring. His hair had been tied back to spar, but it was unmistakably long and blond within that bun. He wasn’t as well-muscled as Thor himself, but given a little more time and work he could easily have begun to encroach on Thor’s territory.

He was sloppy – he must have put in more hours maintaining his physique than in practicing his form – and Thor was ruthless with him, taking advantage of his mistakes to edge him back against the side of the ring until Thor was no longer sparring but on the offensive.

He should have had no quarrel with this man – he had never even met him before today – but he wanted, darkly, _absurdly_ , to punish him for being attractive to Loki while not being _Thor_ , for the off chance that if Loki ran into him he might take him to bed.

(There was, really, only one way that Thor could prevent that or similar from happening ever again.

And both he and Loki wanted it.)

“Another opponent!” Thor yelled, feeling his face begin to heat and his blood begin to boil rather than cool.

His demand was met, and another blond jumped down from the stands and came at him hard and fast from the left. Thor met him just as hard and fast.

-

All of them exhausted, Thor’s opponents stretched, cooled down, and stood around gossiping and then parted ways when it began to be well and truly dark.

Thor drove himself further, unable to stop, for to stop would be to have to think, and to think would be to consider the course of action that had occurred to him. (Loki was _his brother_. They should not even feel this way about one another, so they certainly should not let it carry them beyond unspoken feeling.) He paused only to light the lamps and pitch a jug of water over his head, then set himself to throwing a heavy axe at a row of targets until they had all been near completely destroyed.

That blank-minded state wherein his thoughts would have left him alone with only the roar of blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart continued to elude him.

He might have continued all night had he not noticed Loki watching him out of the corner of his eye, leaning against one of the lampposts.

He wasn’t sure if his brother was still angry with him – it had been a little offense, and nothing that Loki had not been planning to inflict on Fandral, but Loki did not take embarrassment half so well as he held grudges – so he approached him with caution and without optimism.

Loki didn’t say anything when Thor reached him, just handed him a fortifying drink. Thor realized how exhausted he was, the burn of his muscles pleasant but copious, and he took it and drank gratefully. The rich wash of minerals was welcome to his tongue as the cold temperature was welcome to his belly.

His brother studied him as he drank. His features were sharp as ever, thrown into deep relief by the dark. He didn’t look angry: he had the look that Thor could still recognize, though it had been years since they took lessons together, as the one he would wear when he was about to remind Thor of an examination it was too late for Thor to study for and string him along for a few minutes before laughing and assuring him he wouldn’t guard his own answers too closely.

“Are you ready?” Loki asked, in little more than a whisper, and with such a bland sentence that it could have meant anything if Thor was not.

The drink was perhaps not that fortifying.

“Come and find me when you are,” Loki said, turning to leave.

Thor almost reached for his brother’s retreating back, but since he wasn’t, it would have been pointless.

-

Loki was irate to be disturbed in the library, but he was oft irate, and this wing was oft abandoned, so Thor knew they were unlikely to be interrupted.

“I’ve noticed something,” Thor said, knowing the opener was not interesting enough – or obvious enough, he had let too much time pass – to get Loki to look up from his book, but unable to leap right into such a delicate, dangerous subject.

“Oh, have you learned a new skill, then?” Loki snarked, completely reflexively, without – sure enough – tearing his eyes from the pages. It seemed despite his tacit encouragement that night, almost a month ago, he was not going to help him overmuch.

“Loki.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he marked his place and put the book down on the bench beside him. “What have you noticed?”

What was the way to go about this? Just because they both knew what he was going to say did not make the task easy. “There is… in your _favored…_ I’ve realized the men you take to bed… the pattern is…”

Loki propped his chin on his hand. “By Ymir, brother, I know you are no great orator, but this is just sad.”

“What would you have me do?” Thor demanded, frustrated.

“Start over, for one,” Loki suggested, and it was even kind.

Thor closed his eyes and breathed in. This was all moving so fast; just a month past he’d realized his love for his brother was not entirely, innocently fraternal. A month of running into his past lovers and realizing that nearly all of them had green eyes and dark hair and sharp wits; a month of not taking any new ones; a month of noticing that his breath caught in his throat when he heard Loki laugh; a month of fantasies about his brother finally taking recognizable shape when he closed his eyes for sleep every night.

A month of calculating the risks and the rewards and finding the latter outweigh the former each time.

A month of making pleading eye contact with Loki. _Not yet._

There was no guide he knew of for something like this, so he steeled himself and moved fast right along with it.

“The men you take to bed all look like me,” he got out in one breath.

Loki nodded. “And did you realize this before or after you caught your own, corresponding habit?”

Thor wondered how long his brother had been onto him. “Before.”

“And now that you’re armed with these twin discoveries, what are you going to do?”

His brother gave him no hint one way or the other on which course of action he would prefer, because he’d been giving him ample hints, already, for years.

Thor stepped closer and reached for his brother’s face, but Loki caught his hand in midair, laughing incredulously.

“I can’t believe you thought to have this conversation here. I can’t believe _I_ entertained it here for so long.”

And they were already joined by the hand, so Loki just weaved the spell and they were transported into his apartments.

He’d left the room dark, but there was late summer light enough coming in from the balcony, latticed by the screen on which Loki grew climbing flowers. It illuminated his face, and he looked nervous, as well he would when on the verge of a great success that could also become a catastrophic failure.

He licked his lips, eyes serious.

This time, when Thor tried to take his face in his hand, Loki let him, but it was Loki who closed the final bit of distance between them.

The feel of his brother’s lips on his own was shocking but thrilling. It was very similar to the rush of adrenaline he’d felt when, as lads, they’d first plundered the palace kitchen and made off to the stables to drink their stolen bottle of wine, only this was much warmer and more intoxicating by far.

The kiss began so intensely already that Thor did not think it could become more so, but it did, roaring to further life until it was like a cresting wave.

A first kiss was always exciting, especially one with long ages of wishing and wanting behind it, but Thor had never had one quite like this, and he didn’t anticipate wanting another of any kind ever again.

Thor gathered his brother in his arms, and that gave Loki a closer vantage point from which to push Thor down onto his bed.

The part of him that cared what others thought bristled to be manhandled by someone much slighter, but Loki didn’t entertain that part of Thor – always dismissed as ridiculous the concerns Thor did not need, so that Thor could do it himself, as well – and Thor supposed he must detach that part of himself permanently now that he was going to fuck _his own brother_.

And, well, his cock was already stirring in his trousers.

Loki settled on top of him, straddling his hips, and kissed him again. Thor took to it with vigor, coaxing Loki’s mouth open with his tongue and then slipping inside.

His brother whined desperately at the visitor, and Thor grabbed him about his hips and ground him down at the same time as he bucked up, so Loki could make no mistake that he was affecting Thor as well.

Loki’s cock was a burning iron against his own, and Thor had to feel it. Had to have Loki out of his clothes.

“Can you vanish our clothing?” A better way to ask might have been “will you vanish our clothing?” because it wasn’t a question of Loki’s ability but his whim.

“Impatient, brother?” he asked, but without a very good smirk. The answer was clearly yes, and the feeling was clearly mutual. “After you made me wait an entire month?”

Before that, Loki made him wait who knew how long, keeping his knowledge of Thor’s desires a secret, waiting for Thor to catch up to them. Or was it that Thor, oblivious, had made Loki wait, alone in his knowledge of the desires Thor had but had yet to face? How many years had that been? Centuries? Thor wanted to ask, but Loki had firmly decreed this was no time to talk when he’d magicked them into his bedroom and pushed Thor down onto his bed, and Thor, not half as talkative as his brother at his best, agreed words weren’t what they needed right now.

He took hold of Loki’s collar and rent his shirt in two, tearing it down to the navel.

“Oh, alright,” Loki gasped, waving a hand, and when Thor began to attack his shoulder with his teeth the barrier of their clothing was gone.

Their hips slotted together wonderfully, and it felt better for their cocks to finally be united than Thor could have imagined anything this side of the halls of Valhalla to feel.

Loki rutted down against him, drawing little hisses of pleasure from himself and inspiring deep moans from Thor.

Thor had a handful of his brother’s thighs and a mouthful of his collarbone. He bit down, hard, not even seeking to mark but to anchor Loki to him, keep him where he belonged – which was on top of Thor, just as much as he belonged at Thor’s side.

It left a mark, anyway, and Thor laved his tongue along it and closed his fist around Loki’s cock.

Loki’s hands had been on Thor’s shoulders, but they flew down his torso – leaving a shiver in their wake – to return the favor.

“Norns,” Loki moaned, taking Thor’s cock in his hand eagerly, stroking a few times, testing the weight of it before getting a rhythm going. “I should not have settled for substitutions the way I did for so long.”

Thor squeezed Loki’s cock, satisfied that the stuttering moan he pulled belonged to him and him alone. “When you took those men to bed, did you imagine they were me?”

“Yes, brother,” Loki said, thrusting into Thor’s fist. “I did. Every single one of them. How could I have _really_ wanted them, when what I wanted was you?”

He was still steadily working his fist along Thor’s length, running his thumb around the slit at the crown of every stroke, wetting it.

“None of them could really compare, of course,” his brother said, sounding like it was of little consequence now that he finally had his prize. He watched himself work with something like worship for Thor’s cock. “Certainly, none of them could boast a cock like _this._ ”

That was enough ceremony, it seemed, and Loki did something that made any further quite impossible: he repositioned himself so he was straddling Thor’s thigh, then bent and swallowed Thor’s cock to the root, and once he got there laved his tongue along where it was joined to his balls.

Thor forgot how to breathe, and was still relearning when Loki drew back, chasing his retreating lips with his hand, fitted as a tight ring. “Are you not glad for my practice, though?”

Thor nodded mutely; he would have been glad still to feel Loki’s mouth on him if it had been his first time and Thor had to guide him all the way.

But it wasn’t, and he didn’t: Loki took quick charge, taking Thor’s cock back into his mouth just as deep as the first time and bobbing his head up and down.

Thor bucked up into his brother’s mouth, quite unable to remember to be courteous, but Loki did not seem to mind. He sucked Thor like he had been starved before he began. He worked his mouth faster, like he wanted nothing more than to keep swallowing Thor, and ground his cock against Thor’s leg. Thor could feel the muscles of his throat swallowing around him.

It felt wonderful, but Thor wanted so much more, and most importantly wanted to bring his brother pleasure as well.

Thor threaded his fingers in the hair at the nape of Loki’s neck and gently tugged his brother back up to lie atop him. They kissed again, and it almost drained Thor of the will to do anything else, but when they broke apart, breathing in time, he asked Loki “have you any oil?”

Loki clenched his empty fist, and when he opened his palm, he had.

Thor took the vial like his brother was handing him a precious instrument, because, as far as Thor was concerned, he was.

“How do you wish to--?”

“You,” Loki said quietly. No pomp. “Inside me.”

Thor’s fingers trembled too much to uncork the vial, so Loki closed his around them and helped him. The contact grounded him, and when Loki took his wrist to guide Thor’s hand behind him, he pressed the first of his slicked fingers inside his brother with surety.

Loki’s mouth fell open. He tossed his head back, eyes unfocused, and then dropped it forward to rest on Thor’s shoulder, depositing half-formed kisses all along his collarbone. He sunk back onto Thor’s finger, drawing it in to the knuckle.

Loki’s lips were so cool, his hands almost cold, but inside he was ablaze. Thor added another finger, rubbing at Loki’s prostate as much as helping him to relax to intrusion, and Loki rocked against them until he decided he wanted more.

He rose off Thor’s hand and pushed Thor backwards.

Thor scrambled back, half his own effort and half Loki’s insistent shoving, until he was sitting against the headboard, and Loki clambered back into his lap.

They both reached to coat Thor’s cock in the oil, and so they did it together, their fingers sliding over the length.

Once it was finished, Loki took Thor’s hand in his and drew it away, moving it so they held hands against the wall behind them, level with Thor’s head.

He knelt above Thor’s lap, and with his free hand he positioned Thor’s cock, aiming it at his hole, watching Thor the whole time.

Thor’s heart was beating very fast.

He felt Loki’s rim around the head of his cock, and then Loki sank about halfway down, gasping the whole trip. He felt perfect around Thor’s cock.

He rose back again, and then lowered himself more slowly, and Thor’s cock was consumed inch by inch until it was totally enveloped and Loki was pierced to the core like he had pierced Thor’s heart.

Loki kissed him again. Thor’s head spun but coming up for air was more like drowning.

He put his free hand around his brother's cock to stroke him.

Loki rose on his straining thighs and impaled himself on Thor’s cock over and over again, almost battering against him like a moth on a lamp. Thor met his brother’s sinking hips with his rising ones each time, determined to give him everything he wanted.

“Brother,” Loki demanded, his teeth on Thor’s lip. “Tell me you love me.”

Thor was already doing it, but he used his words along with his body. “I love you, Loki. Brother.”

Loki came, his seed landing on Thor’s belly and his body twisting in Thor’s arms.

Thor followed right behind, and his brother’s clenching hole accepted his seed as readily and well as his mouth accepted his kiss.

-

After, they fell asleep together.

When they woke, it was uncomfortably hot and their skin stuck together. The abated sunlight from the balcony told Thor it was probably late evening.

They should probably discuss things. They would not have the luxury of an easy love, after all.

Loki was lying half on top of him, and Thor rolled them over and propped himself up on his elbows, watching Loki’s face, unsure who should speak first.

It was Loki who did, as it were.

“I can’t remember a time I didn’t desire you,” he said. His eyes were serious in the low light, and Thor knew he was telling the truth. The lie-god’s truths carried enormous weight, and Thor needed to offer back one of his own.

Thor felt sure he had desired his brother just as long, but he’d been blind for most of that time, and it would have been hollow to simply parrot the sentiment.

“I’ll never stop wanting you,” was what he settled on, and he said it with absolute certainty.

Loki was not the sort of witch that could see into the future to confirm it, but if he could, he would have found everything to be in order.

-

They didn’t put in an appearance at dinner that night. Loki had a bowl of fruit in his sitting room, and its contents sustained them well enough when they stopped to feel hunger for something other than each other.

But they couldn’t stay in Loki’s apartments the rest of their lives, so they ventured forth to break their fast the next morning, a little bleary eyed from their lack of sleep.

A blond lieutenant of the Einherjar who Thor recognized as an orbiter of Loki’s waved eagerly at his brother when they passed him in the hall.

Loki didn’t so much as look at him, which Thor had to admit was a little cruel, but he stepped closer to Thor, and their hands brushed as they walked, so Thor supposed it was alright.

**Author's Note:**

> [Thotki.tumblr.com](https://thotki.tumblr.com)


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